


Always at Night - Chapter 24.5

by TriDom



Series: Nocturnal Problems [3]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alcoholism, Angst, Depression, Drinking, Low Self Esteem, M/M, Mentions of past verbal abuse, Relationship Growth, Some verbal abuse, Unhealthy Relationships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-15
Updated: 2017-09-15
Packaged: 2018-12-30 06:31:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,415
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12102798
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TriDom/pseuds/TriDom
Summary: Chris Argent and Peter Hale have not had any easy relationship. When they fight, they have always gone for the lowest blows they could find.It has taken Peter a very long time to realize that isn't how it always has to be.(Companion to Always at Night (text fic)





	Always at Night - Chapter 24.5

**Author's Note:**

> They get nasty.

Peter heard Chris’s keys in the door knob of his apartment before he twisted the knob and found he’d locked it instead. The knob twisted again as he unlocked it and came in. He barely looked at Peter as he dropped his keys in the metal bowl on the table. 

“Did you just drop the child off?” 

“Stop calling him that.” 

The couch across from him still smelled like Stiles. The blue flannel blanket was still plugged into the wall with its dial glowing red. Peter watched Chris go to the open kitchen and pause in front of the liquor cabinet. He reached for one bottle, the one he almost always drank, then grabbed another. 

It was five-hundred a bottle. Peter had bought it many times. 

Chris took a drink before getting down a glass and pouring until the rich brown liquid was nearly to the rim. He left the cabinet open and bought the bottle and glass into the living room. He sat on the couch across from him and took another drink, three large swallows before he put it down and shuddered. 

“Why didn’t he stay the night?” 

“John doesn’t like him being gone every night,” Chris said. “Why are you here?” 

“Like it isn’t obvious,” Peter said. 

“You have about fifteen minutes to spit it out before I’m not hearing a word you say.” 

“How mature.” 

“If you don’t like it, you can go.” 

Peter leaned forward with his elbows on his knees. Chris stared at him with his light blue eyes that were already red-veined. He had kept the same expressions from twenty-one to forty-one. This one it seemed he’d see a thousand times. Cold indifference, such a thin, convincing, veneer over hurt. 

“I’m sorry for what I said. I didn’t mean to upset you.” 

“What did you think would happen?” Chris asked. 

He had expected denial. Chris had always been the kind of man that could have a bear trap on his ankle and still say he was fine. 

“I don’t know,” Peter said. “I wanted you to consider if you’re dating him for the right reasons. He deserves more than to be-.” 

“You’re jealous and if you can admit that then I’ll let it go.” 

“No I’m not.” 

Chris cussed under his breath before taking another long drink. He didn’t wince, but his cheeks turned darker beneath his stubble. 

“No one is going to replace my daughter.” 

“I never said he would.” 

“I don’t understand. If you think all I am is a man who chases boys to fill a hole that will never be filled then why are you here?” 

“I don’t think that’s who you are,” Peter said, not able to stop himself from rolling his eyes. “I think you’re melodramatic, but I never implied that you’re predatory.” 

“Yes you did-.” 

“No. I said you are acting like his father, which you are. You want someone to take care of. You want to be needed. You’ve always wanted someone to look to you for direction. I know, because before the fire, it was me.” 

“You’re only four years younger than me.” 

“And I was enamoured. You could do no wrong.” 

“If you felt that way, it wasn’t my fault. I never pretended to be something I’m not in front of you.” 

“No you didn’t and isn’t that just enchanting to young souls?” Peter asked. “My own James Dean?” 

“It’s not my fault that you felt that way,” Chris said. 

“No it wasn’t, but that’s the effect you have on people. Why do you think you’ve had so many little hunters panting after you? It’s not chance, Chris.” 

“They were horny and we had down time. It had nothing to do with who I am.” 

Peter laughed slightly. It would be funny if it wasn’t so layered in denial. “I was with you when you got calls from them. Do you think that happened with everyone?” 

Chris stared at him with his jaw tight. The back popped as he unhinged it. 

“This doesn’t have anything to do with Stiles.” 

“Yes it does. Now you’re even older, wounded, and needing to be comforted, wanting to give direction. Stiles wants to be loved and you need to love something. He wants to give up control and you’ve never been in a position in your life where you didn't hold power. If you can’t acknowledge the imbalance there then you’re being willfully ignorant.” 

“I don’t not acknowledge that there’s an imbalance. There’s an imbalance of life experience, but that’s all. I don’t try to control him. I try to protect him when he’s reckless, but in the end he makes his own decisions,” Chris said. “What I’m confused about right now is why the fuck you’re sitting in my living room giving me a lecture on my personality and a relationship that has nothing to do with you.” 

“When you start to bring my relationship with Stiles into the equation-.” 

“What relationship? He flirts with you, because you’re there, Peter, because you force yourself into places. You have the uncanniest ability to show up where you’re not wanted.” 

Peter smiled slightly. “Oh you haven’t changed at all have you?” he asked. “Do you still need to barb when you’ve been stung? You’re just a rattlesnake with a broken spine and cornered.” 

Chris finished his glass of scotch before staring at him for a moment. In a few minutes the effects were going to hit him like a hammer. He would feel good for thirty minutes, sleep like the dead, and wake up with a hangover that would linger for two days. Peter doubted very much that Chris cared. 

“And you’re still just a smart ass who isn’t nearly as intelligent as he thinks,” Chris said. “Get out,” he said standing up and going back toward the kitchen. “I’m tired. I don’t need this.” 

Peter stood and went across the kitchen. He saw Chris’s shoulders tense as he stepped from the carpet onto the tile. He wrapped his arms around Chris’s waist where he stood at the sink. He could smell the vapor of alcohol rising through his skin. 

“You still can’t lie to me,” Peter said against his ear. “There’s never been a time in either of my lives that you haven’t wanted me.” 

“Peter,” Chris said, shouldering him. 

“I’m sorry,” he said before Chris could get claustrophobic. “I am sorry I hurt your feelings. It was never my intention. I know how much you loved her, Chris. I wouldn’t be apologizing if I didn’t mean it.” 

“Admit you’re jealous of how I treat him.” 

“Would that make you feel better?” 

“If you want me to think about things that I don’t want to think about then I want you to do the same thing.” 

Peter rested his chin on Chris’s shoulder and his mind raced. If he was jealous it wasn’t a first reaction. The first reaction was that Chris shouldn’t be as protective of Stiles as he was. Stiles was grown, but then Stiles was hardly grown. When he was nineteen he made many stupid decisions and one of the largest was in his arms. 

“You show that you love him easier than you show me,” Peter said. 

Chris held the edge of the sink. Peter saw his knuckles turn white for a moment before he squeezed Chris more tightly. 

“I know you love me. I don’t know why you have to be forced to admit it.” 

“We’ve been through a lot more, Peter.” 

“I’ve always just taken for granted that you did love me. But if that isn’t the case, I want you to tell me now,” he said quietly. 

He felt Chris exhale. It would be hard to cut him out completely. He could do it, but he may need to put the country between them to do it. Even then he couldn’t guarantee that if in the same proximity they wouldn’t drift back together. 

Even going to college in Massachusetts hadn’t helped. When he had been in Beacon Hills for holidays he spent at least one night, most times three or four, in a motel room one town away with sheets that stank of cigarettes and semen. 

Once Chris had even been waiting outside of one of his classes sitting on top of a bench outside the building. He hadn’t even cared how Chris had gotten his class schedule. It didn’t matter. They had had dinner at a restaurant with cloth napkins and fairly expensive wine. They spent a long weekend in a hotel with clean white sheets that didn’t reek of poverty and depression. 

Chris had told him he loved him then. After so many years it should’ve been expected, but his heart had still beat so hard he had felt like a teenager again. 

Now Chris cleared his throat slightly and he wondered for a moment if he even still wanted him. 

The thought the he had that much control over his desires would’ve made him laugh if his stomach wasn’t in knots. 

“I do love you.” 

“Okay,” Peter said, pressing his face against the side of Chris’s neck and inhaling his scent. 

Then Chris turned around until Peter dropped his arms from his waist to put them on the counter on either side of him. Blue eyes shouldn’t be so novel. After years of seeing the same ones, he shouldn’t still think they were so beautiful. He didn’t feel so bad for it when he remembered a week ago when Chris had said his eyes were pretty when he was a little drunk and a little stoned on old pain medication. 

“But you’re not going to get anything else from me. This is it. I can only pretend to be happy for so many hours in a day and they’re going to go to Stiles.” 

“I’ve never wanted you to be pretend.” 

“It’s not fair to you.” 

“Let me decide what is or isn’t fair for me,” Peter said. “You can’t daddy me. As you said, I’m only four years younger.” 

Chris snorted. One side of his mouth lifted. “I thought you said I could do no wrong?” 

“Of course that’s the part of that entire conversation that you would remember,” Peter said. Then he leaned closer, pressing a soft kiss against Chris’s mouth. Chris kissed him back, barely opening his mouth.

Then Chris hugged him hard, one arm around his ribs and the other around his shoulders. Peter pressed into the side of his neck. He could smell Stiles on his skin, but it wasn’t unpleasant. He smelled newer, cleaner. 

“I’m sorry,” Chris said. 

“I know,” Peter said, but his eyes still burned even though he barely allowed Chris’s words to hurt. He didn’t mean them. He knew that, but they still rubbed piece of him a little more raw each time. Before the fire, he could take it and give as often as Chris wanted to do this. Often he was even the instigator. Now he only felt tired. 

“We have to find a better way to do this,” Peter said quietly. “I don’t want to waste more years that we could have been together by doing this to each other. If you can’t promise me that you’ll try then I need to stop.” 

Chris shook his head. “I don’t want to hurt you either.” 

“I’m not asking to be handled like china, but you can’t just say things like I’m not wanted and expect us to be okay. We don’t have six months to cool off between seeing each other and start to miss each other only to start the cycle again.” 

“It felt easier.” 

“It wasn’t easier. It was miserable.” 

“I didn’t say it was easier. It just felt that way,” Chris said, dragging his hand down his face then scratching his cheek until dark red marks were left. He stared at some point that was over Peter’s shoulder. “It was easier not to think. I knew we would make up. We were never together long enough to do real damage.” 

“We caused plenty of damage,” Peter said. “Like when I said you were only interested in becoming your father just to hurt you.” 

Chris’s face creased slightly before he nodded. 

“And when you said that I wasn’t chosen to be an alpha because I would never stop being a child. We do lasting damage. I can never wipe what I said from your memory and you can’t erase saying that I’m not wanted, but we can try not to add to the damage. We can try to make those the last deep scars we leave.” 

Chris nodded slightly before he sniffed. “I’m tired of your voice being one of the ones in the back of my head. Any time I do something that I question I can still hear you saying that I’m just like him.” 

“I’m sorry,” Peter said quietly, touching his face and feeling his chest clench. Before, he would’ve still felt the pain, but he never would’ve let Chris see it. Tears had been a weapon and he only used them when he needed to manipulate. 

“Don’t be. I’ve done the same thing to you.” 

But he had had positive reinforcements in his life, his mother, his nieces, and nephews, even Talia had been strong and supportive when he needed it. Chris was right. She was a better alpha. Age had softened that blow. Talia’s death had softened it more. She had been a good alpha. He  
would have done no better and most likely would have done worse. 

Comparing Chris time and again to a father Peter knew he hated and feared was more caustic. He had known it when he was younger and it had only made the appeal of using it against him so much sweeter when he hurt. 

“That doesn’t mean I’m not sorry,” Peter said, holding his face between his hands until Chris focused on him. He brushed his thumb against his coarse stubble and felt his eyes burning. “I have spent most of my adult life missing you. I don’t want to do it anymore.” 

“I don’t either.” 

Peter hugged him again and Chris held him as tightly as he was holding him. If the alcohol made him more malleable would only be shown by time. But Chris was rarely a liar and alcohol normally only made him more truthful. There was a tiny flare of hope in his chest. He could smell the same thing on Chris’s scent.


End file.
